


Locker 233

by alec



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alpha Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Awkwardness, Beta Jack Frost, Fluff and Angst, Happy New Year Everybody, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alec/pseuds/alec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter was always the hardest. Right before the holidays, right before break, when school meant dealing with the stress of midterms and the end of the semester. The wind would be biting and snow would pile up and the roads would turn to slush, and it was impossible to go anywhere without stepping out into an environment that was trying its best to put you down, to wear you away. Jack could remember loving the winter, enjoying the snow, thinking this was the greatest time of the year and the time he looked forward to most. But those days had passed, and Jack kept his head down now as he shuffled his fingers into the pockets of his coat and stepped off the bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locker 233

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by:  
>  **Anonymous said:** how about "no-one wants a Beta" Jack as parallel to being invisible, your choice on Alpha/Beta/Omega Hiccup

Winter was always the hardest. Right before the holidays, right before break, when school meant dealing with the stress of midterms and the end of the semester. The wind would be biting and snow would pile up and the roads would turn to slush, and it was impossible to go anywhere without stepping out into an environment that was trying its best to put you down, to wear you away. Jack could remember loving the winter, enjoying the snow, thinking this was the greatest time of the year and the time he looked forward to most. But those days had passed, and Jack kept his head down now as he shuffled his fingers into the pockets of his coat and stepped off the bus.

The worst part about attending a coed school was being a beta. There was nothing... special about you. You were just, well, the same as you'd been before. Nothing had happened, no change had come over you; you just keep on being the same little kid you were before everyone around you started presenting, starting sniffing the air in the hallways or at lunch, started missing school for heats or finding their mates. He was getting older, yes, but he still felt like he was a kid, because he never "matured" like his friends had. And he never would. Because the worst part about attending a coed school was being reminded that you were a beta, every day, as though you weren't already aware of your own gender. You were reminded every time someone's eyes would simply move over you; when nobody would approach you to talk with you; when everybody you'd ever loved or known began to forget that you existed, because they were off finding their mate, or having sex, or dating, or even just pining after someone. Because alphas would only want omegas; beyond their instinctual desire to reproduce (no matter how much they might affirm that they didn't want to), omegas apparently smelled "beyond amazing, beyond anything that you've thought smelled good before." And omegas would go into heat, and they were apparently "wonderful to fuck, wonderful when they were whining for your knot, how tight and wet they were," if the locker room was anything to go by. And omegas would only want alphas; someone who was big, strong, someone who was going to be there to help them through their heat in a way that nobody else could and protect them, someone who would smell amazing, someone who could be their true mate. Being a beta at a coed school meant that you were a nonentity. You were a background character. You were invisible.

Jackson Overland was invisible, and he hated winter, because of how much he had once loved it. How winter had meant friends and family and love, and now it just meant... being alone.

Being alone was all that Jack had now.

* * *

Third period was hard.

It wasn't uncommon, this time of the year, for omegas to go into heat. It was actually, well, it was actually very common. Beyond the regular cycle that an omega's body followed, and the old legends that finding a soulmate would trigger a beautiful heat that the two would fall in love together during, the reality was that stress was more than strong enough to throw off the body's hormones and chemical signals and trigger an omega's heat. And so at the end of a semester, many omegas would need to leave school; these heats were mostly premature, sterile, and would only last long enough for the body to rid itself of its energy, stress, fear. A reaction that was skipped over by evolution as humans gradually moved away from the "everything that moves is probably going to kill you" age; their biology teacher had joked that it was kind of a "not going out without a last big bang" sort of deal, and had gotten a few wry smiles for it. So at the end of a semester, there was always a relatively steady stream of omegas heading to the nurse's office under the supervision of the nearest beta or mated teacher, especially omegas from the graduating senior class.

They always happened the same way. Jack would be focusing on his work — right now, he needed to cram down what Mrs. Allen had written on the board, because there was no way he was going to be able to remember everything about _A Separate Peace_ and be able to pass the ridiculous midterm she was promising if he didn't write down every detail, and he _needed_ to pass this exam. Then there'd be an uncanny silence that would come over the room, and Jack would look up and realise that he'd been the only person whose head was down. Everyone else would be sniffing the air. When it had first happened, Jack would sniff too, wondering if it was something from the lunchroom, or if someone had just farted really badly. But every time, everyone's head would suddenly whip towards a person in the room and they would jump, wide-eyed, wondering "How could it be me this time," as though they'd been singled out for a death game, and then they'd be whisked off and out of the room without explanation, even while some alpha students would be trying to get out of their chairs and follow. The very first time it had happened, it had scared Jack so badly he had been vibrating and almost cried; he had been the only beta in the class, the only one who didn't know what had happened, and the whole thing had been so wordless and so unexplained that he felt terrified, and wondered what had happened to the girl. Jack occasionally still had nightmares about that. Usually reliving that scene, without knowing what was happening. Rarely, but sometimes, they'd all whip towards him, and the teachers would come and drag him off into the light.

Sam had gone into heat, and right away, she had jumped up and grabbed the teacher, while every alpha was following her, their eyes raking up and down her body. Jack just needed to get work done. He needed to cram for the exam. He needed to finish reading this book. He had to finish his notes. Instead, as the only beta in the classroom, he had to walk Sam to the nurse's office. Because of his gender. Because he was the only one who wouldn't be affected by her going into heat. The only time he was given any attention, really — when he was useful to the alphas and the omegas.

And so it was that Jack went through third period, one day closer to the midterm exam he wasn't ready for, without having studied anything at all. He just wanted to weave his way in and through the crowd, get to his locker, rest his head against the metal door and sigh. It wasn't what he _really_ wanted to do, but it was the best alternative he had.

Only there was something on his locker. Even from a distance, Jack could see what it was, but the image wasn't processing in his mind, it wasn't making sense, still didn't even as he stood in front of his locker and stared at the thing quizzically.

It was a large, folded, quartersheet of white paper with his locker number — 233 — written on the outside, taped to the front of his locker. And behind it, tucked haphazardly and probably fallen a bit from where it had originally been placed, was a single red rose, pressed up against the side of the locker.

Jack just stood and stared, head cocked to the side. He wasn't sure how to handle this. There was confusion — lengthy confusion. Then, just a brief moment of elation, of happiness. Followed by the cold crash of reality that even if his locker number were written on it, he was surrounded by five other lockers, at least two of which belonged to omegas. Someone had gotten the wrong locker number and taped their stupid courting shit to the front of his instead.

With more force than was necessary, he snatched off the letter from the locker, managing to snag one of the rose's thorns on his finger and cut it open. Jack bit back a curse as he restrained himself from ripping the sloppy, printer-paper card in half and throwing it in the wastebin where it belonged. As it was, he tore open the seal, taking with it a large chunk of the front.

_Hey! I think your name is Jackson ~~but I don't really know for sure~~. I just wanted to tell you that I think you're very handsome. This rose is for you. I hope you like it._

Jack stared at the card, the people around him pushing past and bumping into him and forcing him closer to his locker. The anger was gone, though, along with his resentment and the pain he'd been feeling. His mouth was open slightly as his eyes read over the words again, before turning the card over and checking the locker number again. Dully he bent down and picked up the rose where it fell on the floor, the cut to his finger still stinging as he slowly rotated it, examining it as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. Because this was — apparently — meant for him. Someone — apparently — thought he was... handsome.

The bell beat Jack to fourth period, and when he rushed into the classroom he took his seat quickly, head bowed as the teacher looked at him before turning back to the board. Gently, he rotated the rose on his lap, his hand not leaving it during the period except when it had to to write something. He explored every inch of the rose as though it were new and exotic, because in many ways it was, and this was the first time he'd held a rose. For him.

By the end of fourth period, he decided he needed to put the rose in his locker. It was — too distracting, was what he had decided upon. Though a part of him didn't want someone to see it and realise they'd put it on the wrong locker and take it away from him. So it was best to just keep it out of view until he got home, and could put it in some water.

He did carry around the letter on the top of his books all day, though.

* * *

Jack was very tired, and the words that he was writing into his notebook were dancing through his head without leaving a trace. The moment that Mrs. Allen stopped talking, his head went back to his hand, and he would close his eyes to shut out the painful fluorescent lights from the ceiling above. Time was ticking by slowly, hours turning out to be only minutes when he would try to subtly look behind him at the clock. He would do it more if even a sleep-deprived Jack didn't fear the wrath of Mrs. Allen.

He'd been up too late last night. Many hours past his bedtime. Jack had barely had any homework — mostly maths assignments, some catchup reading to do, and trying to finish the rest of the notes he'd needed to take for AP European History; an incredibly light load, with the remainder of his teachers assigning the more abstract "prepare for the exam and study," which of course meant that he had no homework. And yet the brown-haired beta didn't close his maths textbook until 3:42, blurry eyes shoving it back into his backpack. His mind would wander to the letter, or his hands would reach out and stroke the rose that sat next to his desk. Trying to read was the hardest, reclining on his bed leaving him in a position where he couldn't fight off the dreams, couldn't fight off his imagination.

A yawn escaped from Jack as he pulled his head back up and scratched down some notes. He understood something about what he'd written, but it made no sense because the context of the rest of the section she was teaching was long gone.

* * *

When the bell rang, Jack started. His body hadn't fallen asleep, but his mind had, and he'd long since abandoned taking notes. He shuffled his things into his backpack, letting out another yawn as he lifted the impossibly heavy bag and slotted it onto his back. He ambled out the door, apologising when he bumped into an omega girl, accidentally knocking her into the door. At least, he thought he apologised. He was pretty sure he had apologised.

The staircase to the second floor where his locker was located seemed like an impossible feat to surmount. There was chatter all around him, and with third period ended, the sun was coming in through the sunroof over the commons; the smells of the lunchroom were beginning to waft up towards Jack, and in this base survival mode he felt himself in, he heavily contemplated buying lunch after next period and skipping all of fifth period, holing himself up in the band closet or under a stairwell and allowing himself to eat and then sleep. He supposed that he could go to the nurse's office and sleep — it was about time that, after spending one and a half years escorting omegas there, he should benefit from the place in some capacity — but the original plan seemed simpler, honestly. As he followed the windows to his locker, the bright sunlight shining in his tired eyes only stoked his rebellious streak. After all, it was the school's fault for starting at seven.

There was a brown bag taped to his locker, and Jack opened his eyes, attention honed as he approached it quickly. It stuck out like a prepared lunch, and was held up on his locker with a long row of duct tape across the top. Slowly so as to not rip the paper, he pulled at the tape until the bag was removed, revealing another white-enveloped letter that had been hidden beneath it, once again with his locker number on it. The bag was light, and he could hear rustling in it, but it still took up a hand and he had to put it on the ground before he could open the letter.

_I hope you don't think this is weird (and I hope me saying that didn't just make it weird), but we have the same lunch period and you're always eating these, so I wanted to give you a snack to help you get through finals preparation week. I hope you like them._

Jack blinked at the plain sheet of paper with the somewhat awkward handwriting before looking down at the paper bag at his feet. He bent down, unfolding the top and revealing three bags of Sun Chips in an array of flavours.

It had happened again. Someone had given him something. This wasn't just a one-time thing. Someone actually wanted to notice Jack. Someone was going out of their way to notice him. And it seemed they had been for a long time now. It— it seemed like someone might... might have a crush on him. The idea seemed so foreign to him, so unexpected, that he didn't know what to do with it, and it felt so out of place floating around his mind. People didn't have crushes on betas. People settled for betas.

Presented with food, his stomach betrayed him and rumbled annoyingly, and left Jack torn at a crossroads. These were a gift that were given to him; they were some sort of _validation_ of his existence, and it felt so wrong to him to just eat them casually and throw away the wrappers. But on the other hand, would it be rude to ignore it? They were given to him to be eaten. And he was incredibly hungry.

As much as he felt confused and touched and hopeful about the gift he now held in his hand, the realisation that he was having an existential dilemma about whether or not to eat a bag of chips struck him as foolishness. He grabbed the red bag of Garden Salsa and gently opened it, putting the remaining two in the brown bag into his backpack. The bag of chips was empty by the time he reached chemistry, his stomach pacified for the moment, and he stood in the doorway for a moment having another crisis over whether to discard the bag or not before once more coming to his senses and (gently) placing it in the bin.

Sleepiness still had an unrelenting grip on him, but he was awake now, a weird mix of emotions stirring him into awareness and motivating him to do his best. If someone was going to notice him, he needed to be worth noticing.

And he didn't skip fifth period or go to the nurse's office. He sat at the same table he always sat at, with the brown bag sitting out visibly next to him, and every so often — without trying to look desperate or overly curious — he would look up and try to see if anybody was watching him. Nobody ever was.

But he still smiled to himself, because someone had been.

* * *

Third period again, and Jack wasn't able to pay attention. He had gotten more sleep than the night before last — falling asleep on his desk had forced his hand in the matter.

Both letters were in his backpack. It was hard to say he was developing a pattern over just two days, and he wasn't trying to be obsessive about them, and he certainly wasn't carrying them everywhere he went, but they were in his backpack with him when he was at school. Front pocket. What was the harm in that? There wasn't anything wrong in that.

There were words on the blackboard and words on his notebook but his thoughts were disjointed, and all of them revolved around the period ending. What was going to be on his locker. What was the letter going to say. Who was writing these. Should he leave class early, fake an illness, "go to the nurse" and try and see if he could meet whoever was leaving these? Jack certainly wasn't actually _learning_ anything from being in class, so really, it wasn't like he was going to miss anything.

When the bell finally rang, he almost knocked his chair over in anticipation, collecting his bag and pushing his way to the door. He wasn't running — and he wasn't power-walking because that was what old women did at malls — but he was _walking with intention_. He tried to take the stairs two at a time, letting out an annoyed huff when he reached the back of boy who was walking slowly. When the staircase ended, he pushed around him quickly and sped down towards his locker. When he rounded the corner and his locker came into view, his heart stopped.

Nothing. There was nothing taped to his locker. There was nothing sitting underneath it, either.

Slowly, Jack walked to his locker, standing in front of it, the hope inside him letting him rub his hands across the surface of his locker, seeing if there was any residue left over from tape. It could have come off and a janitor thrown it away, or whatever it was was taken to the front office and put in the lost and found. A passing group of kids could have taken it. Or maybe it had been pushed through the slats of his locker, the letter sitting inside, because it was too flashy and would only have attracted someone to steal it. Jack's hands shook as he missed his combination twice, heart pounding as he opened the locker. But it was just his books inside, his winter jacket balled up on top of them in a disorganised heap.

Jack let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, the weight of everything crashing down on top of him. It hurt. It felt like an actual, physical pain, and he could pinpoint where inside of him he could feel his hope cracking.

This was foolish of him. He'd gone through school and prepared since the day he presented — or rather, _hadn't_ presented — that he shouldn't get his hopes up. He'd resigned himself to the fact that, as a beta, he might have someone someday, but it would be as a second or third choice. Alphas liked omegas, omegas liked alphas, and betas existed to make sure the world just kept working. When he'd finally figured out he was a beta, it had taken many nights and many tears, but he accepted it and told himself that what he had to do was make himself useful. That's what kept him going through school — he had to be useful, if he wasn't going to be desirable.

The backpack on his shoulders felt heavier as he sank down to his knees and swung it around, trying to go about his normal locker business as though nothing were different or changed. That's what life as a beta was, Jack told himself: resolute and constant. No heats, no ruts, no deviation from the normal, and today was going to be the same. Whatever came his way, Jack needed to be strong enough by himself to stand against it.

With a sigh, Jack unzipped the front pocket of his backpack and took out the two white letters he'd been carrying around with him. He set them on top of the books at the bottom of his locker before frowning sadly, and tucked them away underneath the stack; it felt easier not having them in sight. And with that, Jack nodded his head, closed his locker, and left to go to fourth period.

* * *

Jack set the book down on the bed next to him, finally having finished the end of _A Separate Peace_. He'd known how it ended after almost two weeks of playing it cool during class and pretending that he'd gotten past chapter six. The book wasn't spectacular or remarkable, but at least it was finished finally and he'd (possibly) be able to write a passing essay in the exam next week.

Jack rolled his head to the side, glancing at the alarm clock on the night-stand to his left. The bright red digits flashed back that it was after midnight, approaching one in the morning, and the boy closed his eyes; everything came at a cost, and he was certainly going to regret staying up so late in just a few hours when he would have to drag himself to the shower and wait for the bus. But at least he'd been able to focus tonight. He'd gotten good work done, and should feel pride in himself.

His focus shifted to the window behind the night-stand, blinds always open so the room wouldn't feel stifling. The rose was sitting on the windowsill in a drinking glass he'd filled with water to preserve it. His mom didn't keep flowers around the house, and he wouldn't have wanted to let her know about the rose even if she did, but that left Jack feeling unsure how to preserve flowers. He'd felt foolish having to search online to see if there was an appropriate amount of water to put in to prevent drowning the flower before remembering that a cut flower was technically already dying and he wasn't going to drown it. Still, the rose was full and lush, and the red petals rested against the chilled pane of the window. As Jack turned off the bedside light and plunged the room into darkness, his gaze was still trained on the flower. He'd left the letters hidden from sight in his locker, and he'd finished the last bag of chips this evening as he waited for dinner, neatly recycling the brown paper bag the gift had come in. The reminders were out of sight, even if they weren't out of mind. Everything except for the rose.

In the darkness of the night, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up and retrieving the flower from the makeshift vase. He held the rose to his nose but there was nothing except the fading scent of the flower and cold air. Jack closed his eyes, pulling himself back under the covers of his bed and settling down against the pillow, the rose still in his hand. He looked past it, out at the night sky dotted by only a few stars, and set the flower down next to him.

Jack's last thought before sleep took him was that it felt so perfect sharing a bed, even if it was just with a flower.

* * *

Jack believed in gender equality. Omegas should have the same treatment as alphas, alphas the same as betas, and so on. The idea of differential treatment wasn't something that he was ready to embrace, and yet not for the first time he found himself wishing that they wouldn't give exams to omegas. He might not have to go through heats himself, but he knew that they weren't fun, even if they were abortive and stress-induced. In fact, having them be stress-induced on top of whatever it was that made regular heats painful probably only exacerbated the problem. It was a slippery slope from one exception into full-on gender discrimination, but as he took a sweating Aaron to the nurse's office after he'd started panting heavily, eyes blown wide in the middle of AP Euro, he just wanted this to end. If not for his omega classmates, then selfishly for himself. This was the fourth time he'd had to be someone's escort this exam season.

After transferring custody of Aaron over to the nurse, who began asking Aaron the same set of questions he'd heard three times over the past two weeks, Jack glanced at the clock. Second period was going to be over in five minutes, and he already had his backpack with him. There was no need for him to go back to class. And with both maths and history over with, he might as well take the heaviest books out of his bag and swap them for the single chemistry textbook he'd need until sixth period French. The hallways were empty as he made his way to his locker on the second floor.

There were odd shuffling sounds coming from around the corner of his lockerbay, and the distinctive sound of masking tape being ripped. As he rounded the corner into his row of lockers, he saw why. Standing in front of his locker, staring at him with wide eyes, was a scrawny boy, a little bit shorter than himself, staring at him with his arms outstretched, fingers still touching the edge of the masking tape on his locker. Their eyes were locked and it looked as though the other boy were a deer caught in the headlights.

The boy took off running before Jack could say anything, the roll of masking tape discarded on the floor. Jack shuffled out of his backpack, throwing it in front of his locker as he ran after him. Jack called out for him to stop, but as he rounded the other end of his locker, he just saw the right foot of the boy disappearing down a hallway. Jack picked up his pace, reaching the corner quickly; he could still hear the footsteps from down the hallway.

And then the bell rang.

The sound of a hundred chairs scraping against the tiles and backpacks being picked up and teachers insisting that the students weren't dismissed yet flooded his ears, completely overshadowing the sound of the disappearing footsteps. Jack slowed down to a walk as students began streaming into the hallway. He wasn't going to be able to follow the other boy through the crowd. Disappointment bit at him, which was then quickly overcome by two emotions: the first, curiosity — what was in the envelope; the second, happiness — there was an envelope taped to his locker. Sure enough, the number 233 written in the same awkward penmanship was on his locker, and as he removed it he could feel something shifting inside. When he pulled out the letter and opened it, he almost dropped the contents, two gift cards falling out. He managed to catch one, but the other landed on the floor and he scooped to pick it up.

_Hey! I was going to give you the iTunes gift card yesterday, but I was out sick with food poisoning :( And the Starbucks gift card was supposed to be for you today! It's cold out there; I hope you get something to warm you up!_

Jack's could feel his face growing warm as he read over the letter a second time. He flipped over the gift cards, revealing a $10 Starbucks card and a $15 iTunes card. Happiness soared through him that the letters were back, that the gifts were back, most of all that — apparently — the _boy_ was back. But he also felt embarrassed. This was so much money for someone to be spending on him. Jack didn't deserve these.

All the same, he couldn't wipe the dopey smile off his face, and his chest felt warm the rest of the day. It felt like he was radiating something every time he remembered the gift cards in his front pocket.

The three letters were also tucked back carefully into his backpack.

* * *

Jack had never been as eager to go to school before as he was today. When the alarm went off, he was wide awake, already in the shower with folded clothes sitting on top of the toilet by the time his second backup alarm went off on his phone. Jack was almost ten minutes early to the bus stop, and the harsh winter air was biting against his face; he wished he hadn't come out as early as he had, but he couldn't contain the excitement.

He couldn't stop the jittering in his leg all through first period, and second period was spent glancing at the clock as it ticked, minute by minute, waiting until the period would end. He tried to think if there was some excuse he could use to leave early and try to get to his locker, but nothing presented itself. When the bell finally rang, Jack was already packed and racing out the door, not stopping to hear the words from the teacher formally dismissing the class.

And, Friday brought with it another envelope, though no boy. As Jack approached this one, he felt like everything had been building up to this. He reached out, pulling off the envelope and carefully unfolding it.

_Hi again. Sorry I ran away yesterday. I just... panicked, I guess. But I was hoping that you would be willing to meet me during lunch? Here at your locker. I promise I most likely won't run away again._

Jack's heart was racing, and he had to contain his breathing. The other boy actually wanted to meet him. Today. In a few hours. Jack would meet the boy. In a few hours.

* * *

Jack had absolutely no idea what happened during third, fourth, and fifth period.

* * *

There was some hunger in him, but even his stomach knew to cooperate and not protest as Jack walked past the entrance to the cafeteria, trying to control his pacing as he reached the staircase to the second floor. But what would be protestations of hunger were instead knots of worry and butterflies, his stomach doing leaps with every step he took, and Jack was a little bit aware that his hands were shaking. This was it. He was actually going to meet him. A lump sat in Jack's throat as he approached his lockerbay.

When he rounded the corner, he saw the same small boy. He was almost a head shorter than Jack, and the first thing that registered in Jack's mind was how beautiful his wide eyes were. The second was that the boy had freckles, and that those were just as cute. The boy was standing in front of Jack's locker, shifting nervously, and his hands were playing with themselves, arms swinging back and forth slightly. He was looking at Jack, no doubt having heard the footsteps he made when he was approaching, and he swallowed audibly.

The two stood in silence, staring at one another, and Jack felt his face grow warm, unsure of what to say. He'd been imagining this moment throughout the day, but he hadn't — well, he'd expected that it'd be smoother than this. In the end, all he managed to make out was a simple "Hey," in a meek voice that felt on the verge of cracking, as though he hadn't already finished an awkward puberty.

"H-hi, uh, hi Jackson. Is, is that what you'd like me to call you? I knew that was your name but I wasn't sure if you wanted me to just call you 'Jack' or not so I just," he stammered out, his face turning red and his limbs moving even more.

"N-no, Jackson is fine. I, uh, normally I go by Jack but that's just because it's easier to remember and," Jack began to ramble. He'd never felt this lost for words before. He felt like he was giving a presentation in front of a class — exposed and unprepared. "I, um, I really — thanks for the gifts. It made this week a lot of fun."

_'Fun'? That's how you're going to say it? Not "amazing, spectacular, the best week of my otherwise miserable life?" You're going with 'fun'._

If the other boy wasn't already red, however, he most certainly was now, and the colour was flushing to the tips of his ears where they poked through the messy brown streaks of his hair.

"I'm, I'm glad that you liked them," he said with an awkward, toothy smile, and suddenly both boys found themselves unable to make eye contact, inspecting the lockers with a great interest. "Oh, uh, my name is Hunter."

"Hi, Hunter."

"Hi, Jack."

If this wasn't the most awkward conversation Jack had ever been a part of, then his memory was going bad. And yet despite that, there wasn't anywhere that he'd rather be at the moment.

Hunter cleared his throat, and Jack could watch his neck move as he swallowed. "Um, so I've, kinda thought you were really handsome for a while and my friends finally pressured me into actually telling you — no, wait, not that I mean, uh, _bad_ pressured, I just, _shit_ , wait, let me start over." Jack was smiling wide, and he let out a short, nervous laugh, at which Hunter smiled a slight bit before swallowing again. "I, so, today is Friday, and I had one more gift for you, if you'd like it. It's uh, it's here for you," he said, before sticking out his hand, which Jack noticed immediately was clenched tightly and shaking. Hunter stared at his fist for a second before visibly trying to relax his grip.

Jack stepped forward to look and, even though one of them was turned over on its back, he knew immediately what Hunter was holding: two movie tickets. It felt like Jack had stopped breathing.

"I don't, I don't know if you like them, or if you've already seen it, or if you've seen the, uhh, others, but there's a new _Star Wars_ movie out, and I've heard that it's pretty good, and I was wondering if you'd, like to go see them. It. With me. Tomorrow night? At nine. On a, on a d-date." The last words were spoken with Hunter looking straight down at the ground.

It felt like elation, and Jack was soaring, light-headed and happy and he wanted to scream, to jump and say _'YES, ABSOLUTELY YES'_ as loud as he could.

But then a cold wave of guilt crashed over him. He was being asked on a date — _on a date_ , his mind repeated, trying to break through with pure joy. But he could see from the tell-tale red-ring around the boy's eyes that, for all his smallness and awkwardness and nervousness, he was an alpha. And this was the first time that he'd actually been close to Jack, actually seen him in the flesh. He— he had to. Jack clenched his fists tight, so hard that he could feel his own nails biting into the palms of his hands. He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to prepare himself for what he had to do. He had to.

"You, uh — you know I'm a beta, right?"

Hunter's smile wavered for a bit, before his shoulders sank and a crestfallen look brought his smile away. Slowly, the other boy's hand fell and _dammit_ , Jack wanted it to stay up, he wanted to grab it and hold it and steal one of the tickets before they were gone, but they were already gone. "O-oh," was all that Hunter said, and that one, stammered word cut through Jack's heart, the joy being replaced by sadness and anger at himself, anger — not for the first time — that he was just a beta. But he'd never hated his own gender as much as he hated it now, in this moment.

Hunter looked just as sad, the hope from his face clearly gone, and his eyes were trained on the floor, shoulders hunched over making him appear even smaller than he actually was. And this hurt, to have been so incredibly close only to lose it all.

"S-so, that means you don't want to go."

It came off as a statement of resignation, and the words hit Jack immediately. He felt his heart stop in his chest, and his mind went blank, unsure what to say, what to _feel_. His mouth hung open slightly. A moment of silence passed, and Jack saw Hunter's hands clench tighter, the movie tickets being crumpled in his hand. And that jolted an awareness through Jack, sudden movement, sudden _everything_. He crossed the distance between them quickly, until he was standing right in front of Hunter, who was looking up at him in a mix of surprise and fear, eyes wide. Jack put his hand on Hunter's shoulder, with more force than he'd intended to, and the boy flinched. Jack was aware he was breathing quickly.

"No, I — I _really_ want to go with you, Hunter. I _really_ do." Jack could feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards slightly, tentatively, hopefully. And he could see it took a moment for Hunter's mind to process what Jack had said, before his brow unfurled and his mouth first relaxed, and then pulled back in a smile, hesitant, but then, then it was joyful. "I, I'd really like to go with you. On a date," Jack said, letting out a big breath.

The other boy was smiling now, a wetness in his eyes, and he took a tentative step towards Jack, whose arm was still resting on Hunter's shoulder.

Jack felt himself lean closer instinctively, leaning as though he were trying to hear the other boy whisper. And then he realised that he wasn't stopping. Slowly — horrendously slowly — he was moving towards Hunter, Jack's head shaking. He was moving—

Hunter closed the gap between their two lips, knocking the wind out of Jack, feeling the boy's thin lips pressed against his in a chaste kiss that had his eyes closing. When he felt Hunter pull away, Jack opened his eyes and realised they were damp, a sheen of wetness covering his vision.

Laughing awkwardly, Jack removed his hand from the other boy's shoulder and wiped at his own eyes. Hunter in turn matched Jack's laugh, and there was a joy and happiness that rang in it that made Jack's heart soar, and when he looked up at Hunter, Jack realised that he wasn't the only one with a goofy smile on his face.

* * *

Jack parked the car he had only been able to drive for a month, turning off the wind shield wipers and the manual headlights before stepping out into the cold, night air. A gust of wind buffeted him, and he shivered, wrapping his coat tighter around himself as he locked the car and began walking towards the entrance to the cinema. As he got closer, he could distinguish Hunter from the groups of people entering the building, the boy standing out in front, hands tucked under his arms and breath coming out in a fog. When Jack reached the end of the parking lot, Hunter looked over and smiled, removing one gloved hand to wave at him.

And as Jack crossed the road separating him from the other boy, the wind stopped blowing for a moment and Jack could see the snowflakes falling in front of his face. And realisation dawned on him for the first time, that he had never grown to hate winter, only that he'd grown to hate himself.

A lump caught in his throat and he tried to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve subtly as he approached the other boy, who was audibly shivering. Jack found himself smiling uncontrollably, for the first time in as long as he could remember, as he stopped in front of the other boy.

"Hey, Hunter." And the other boy looked up at him, smile matching Jack's own.

"Hey Jack. I'm glad you could make it."

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2016 everybody! Thank you so much for all of the incredible support you've given me through 2015 — through reading, through kudos, through comments and, most recently, through prompts. It's been so absolutely wonderful seeing you guys enjoy what I've been able to write, and I'm looking forward to seeing what comes in the new year. Have a Happy New Year and I hope you guys have an amazing 2016!
> 
> And as always, [feel free to send me your Hijack prompts and headcanons](http://ahhhlec.tumblr.com/ask)!


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